


Trust is a Two-Way Street

by imaginarycircus



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 08:40:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/847520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginarycircus/pseuds/imaginarycircus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by <a href="http://imaginarycircus.tumblr.com/image/53080185676">this photo of DVG</a> from the LBD signing party. Darcy stuck in the office on a Saturday. Alone. Until...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust is a Two-Way Street

He wasn’t even supposed to be in the office today. He was supposed to be in Napa drinking pinot noir and watching Lizzie turn pink, which she does after half a glass of wine. Instead of admiring the shape of her kneecap or the turn of her ankles, he's going practically cross-eyed trying to read all these handwritten notes. Who even handwrites anything anymore?

But Jenkins came down with the chicken pox and apparently he hand writes notes. (After a moment Darcy sheepishly realizes he hmself hand writes letters.) Jenkins is brilliant so Darcy will forgive him, though privately Darcy thinks it’s undignified to get the chicken pox when you’re 32. Publicly he sent flowers and a card and a large bottle of calamine lotion. And he’s the one stuck in the office working out the last of the details for the Blythe offer, which needs to be in FedEx’s hands no later than 7 PM. It is 4 PM. He's been in the office since four-thirty this morning. Still, a snowball in hell has better odds of making it. 

He cannot, for the life of him, find the language they agreed on with legal for the last two paragraphs. He has a headache. There is no milk for his tea. And he should be in Napa with Lizzie. That’s what he resents the most because they’ve both been so busy. They’ve yawned at each other through dinners and crawled into bed too tired to do more than blink at each other for weeks. This weekend was supposed to be a break. He'd really like to do more than blink at Lizzie, but he knows that train of thought will not help him finish his task. He buckles down. 

Just before five there's a tap on his door followed by the extremely welcome sight of Lizzie in a sundress carrying an iced latte and a large brown paper bag with jute handles. 

“I see you’ve redecorated.” She looks around at the impressive trails of paper all over his office. She bends to touch one. 

"They're in order! Don't mess them up!" He buries his face in his hands and mumbles he's sorry through his fingers. “Lizzie, if you give me half your coffee, I’ll give you a controlling interest in this company.”

“You can have the entire latte, since I bought it for you.” She smiles and he breathes out because of course she understands. She hands him the icy cup and pulls herself up onto his desk, swinging her feet in the air a little. “And I don’t need your company. I have my own.”

He sucks down the latte and ends up pinching the bridge of his nose until the brain freeze dies down. Lizzie runs her fingers through his hair. She’s very kindly not telling him that he looks like hell. 

“Are you hungry?” she asks. 

“Mmm…” He organizes papers and folders, taping them into a neat stack. “Yes. I’m quite hungry.”

About five minutes ago he would have eaten boiled shoe leather, if it came with a nice sauce. But Lizzie, ministering angel that she is, has brought him a panini. He’d have to be dead not to recognize the scent of prosciutto, fontina, roasted peppers, and pesto on bread baked this morning by a nice old man called Franco. 

Food can wait. He grabs Lizzie's hips and slides her right in front of him, which knocks his neat stack of papers on the floor. 

“What are you… Oh.” He takes off one of her shoes and then the other. "William, are you sure you wouldn't rather let me help you with the paperwork?" "Lizzie. It's been 23 days. I can think of only one thing that will make me feel better and that thing involves you. If you are not in the mood--I am sure I can manage--" She stills his mouth with her fingers pressed against his lips and bends forward until they can reach one another. It’s one of those kisses that seems to start somewhere in the middle and it may not have an end at all. He's tossed her shoes somewhere and her bare feet bracket his hips. She tastes like strawberries. He wants to ask why, but not enough to stop kissing her. He digs his fingers into her hair until it's loose. 

She’s not seated on his desk anymore. She’s straddling him in his chair. Her fingers wrestle his shirt buttons open, while he skims his hands up her thighs, her belly, and her back, all while kissing her like he might never have the chance again. All of her clothing can be removed easily. He's only wearing his shirt on one arm at this point. Lizzie is about to pull off Darcy's belt.

She look up at him and kisses him, just a sweet, gentle brush of her mouth. She moves on to traces his lips with her strawberry steeped tongue. She glosses his upper, swooping at the notch below his philtrum. She spends a bit more time on his bottom lip--licking, nipping, sucking.

Darcy has bunched her dress into ruffled handfuls and is about to toss it over her head, when he freezes. He heard a noise. Lizzie is utterly still and listening. 

And there it is again. The soft clear of a throat from the hallway. "Um? “William?”

"One moment," Darcy calls. He and Lizzie share a look that says twenty different things, but they understand each other. (I'm sorry. I really wanted that sex. Hopefully we will have that sex later. Thank you for being your wonderful self. But most importantly, "Do you think she heard us or saw anything?" "Please tell me she didn't."

Lizzie springs off William's lap and puts her clothes to rights. She can only find one of her shoes. She tries to make her hair look a little less like Saturday afternoon sex hair, but you can't do much in two seconds with no mirror or brush. Darcy puts his shirt back on and is determined to face this like a grownup, through part of him would like very much to hide under his desk. 

“Come in, Fanny.”

“I’m sorry. Am I interrupting?” Fanny Price comes in smiling and ready to help, but she can't look Lizzie or Darcy in the eye. 

Oh, no. We're just working away. Lizzie brought me some food. Are you hungry?" Lizzie arranges everything and when she goes into the kitchen for silverware, Fanny asks quietly, "Are you sure I didn't interrupt anything?" "Why?" Darcy is on guard. "Well, your shirt. You've only buttoned three buttons and not one of them in the right place." Fanny turns to the papers on the chair facing Darcy's desk to give him a moment to rebutton his shirt. Lizzie returns with silverware, napkins, glasses and much neater hair. "So I interrupted you," Fanny says evenly, but the splotches of color on her cheeks undermine her calm and cool demeanor. Darcy can see that Lizzie is about to say, "Oh, no. It's fine. You didn't--" 

Darcy hurries on ahead. “Yes, Fanny. You interrupted, but the sooner we finish this task, the sooner I can spend at least a few hours with Lizzie alone.” His manners are generally the last thing to go, so he must be in very bad shape indeed. 

"Of course William. I'd be only too happy to help." 

"I'm here too. Count me in." Lizzie joins Fanny at the coffee table to get a quick and dirty overview of that they're trying to put together. Lizzie keeps sneaking glances at Darcy, waiting for him to tell her not to help. Today he will gratefully accept. 

I am genuinely sorry to have to bother you on a Saturday, Fanny. Doesn't Rose have a competition today?"

Rose is your thirteen year old?" Lizzie asks, sounding unsure of her memory. 

"Yes, Rose is my mathematical prodigy. She competes with the high school math team. She's a couple of years ahead in school. They played this morning. And won! Because Rose knew some rule or corollary written by a man I've never heard of."

"Oh, Fanny. I'm so sorry. You'd probably much rather be celebrating with your family." Darcy pauses what he's doing. He won't get it all done without Fanny, but he'd rather be late than have her miss something important. 

"Oh, please. Don't you remember... well, I'm trying to remember when GiGi was thirteen. But that's wouldn't be a useful comparison. But remember when she turned 15 and suddenly didn't want to be seen with you in public?" 

Darcy winced and nodded. He hadn't understood that until he'd made an appointment with a therapist to help him figure what was wrong--only to find out it's what kids normally do. 

Darcy says, "Just the same, I appreciate your time and hope you will feel free to a day off later this week to compensate."

Fanny shakes her head and Lizzie catches her while she is collecting all the pages from under the sofa.

"What?" Lizzie asks Fanny. 

“William, do you remember my first big meeting with Waverly? Can you recall who was sitting on the floor with me while wearing a suit that probably cost more than my first car, applying glue to foam board? Because if I remember correctly, it was you." She looks up at him with such understanding that he feels a great surge of affection for her.

Fanny says to Lizzie, "Everyone in this building has at least one “William helped me fix everything at the 11th hour” story. He thinks he's just doing his job, but it's more than that. He cares. He cares about the work we do, but he cares about all of us--his staff. It's nice when he lets one of us return the favor. We all wish he'd let us do more.

"Tell me about it." Lizzie sets the paper shopping bag on the table, now that there's room. "I've been asking, practically begging him to let me help. To let me take care of him sometimes." 

Fanny shakes her head sympathetically and Lizzie arranges all the food. There’s more than enough to go around. The three of them manage to whip everything in to shape, print out what needs to be printed, proof it twice, and get all the documents and the thumb drive into the FedEx courier’s hands as he's about to drive away. Fanny does have to run half a block though.

"Yeah, we did it!" Lizzie high-fives Fanny. Darcy looks confused until Lizzie and Fanny hold up their hands and wait until he high-fives both of them. They all laugh. Darcy reminds Fanny that he wasn't joking about her taking a day off soon to compensate. He slips an arm around Lizzie's shoulders and drops a kiss on her temple, not even thinking it a public display of affection in front of a colleague and therefore inappropriate. He's staring at her bare feet. Lizzie had come outside with bare feet. 

Fanny wishes them a goodnight so softly that they don't quite notice her slip away. Lizzie leans into him on the elevator ride back up to his office. They clean up the food containers and find Lizzie errant shoe in the trash bin. 

"Do you still want to go to the Inn? We could be there in about an hour." William checks his watch. Eight-thirty isn't a terrible time to arrive. 

Lizzie peers at him with her head tilted to the side. "You look too tired to even make it to your car, let alone Napa." She takes a step closer and flattens her lips to hide a smile. That suppressed smile makes something expand right behind his breastbone. She continues, "Maybe I should drop you off at home. Let you get some rest in peace and quiet." 

Darcy drops into his desk chair dramatically, sighs, and closes his eyes. "I think I may be too tired to go anywhere." He opens one eye the tiniest bit and is rewarded with a wide smile. The increased swelling in his chest is threatening to crack his sternum. 

"William. There is a perfectly decent sofa ten feet away. At least let me tuck you in there." She tries to pull him to his feet, but he pulls her down instead. She doesn't taste like strawberries anymore and if he were an less exhausted or about to burst--he'd go brush his teeth and take her home to do this properly in a bed. Though his favorite times have been neither proper nor in a bed. 

He lets her do most of the work and she does it beautifully. Afterward he suspects his skeletal system has been replaced with jelly. She manages to tow him into the elevator and shove him into her car and then out of his clothes and into his bed. He permits it and lays his head on his pillow. How wonderful it is to trust someone well enough to see you in these vulnerable moments and know that she'll take excellent care of you. He should permit Lizzie to take care of him more often, but he isn't used to it. She's asked him to try though. He loves her well enough to make the effort. More importantly she loves him well enough to forgive his failures so long as he's made a good faith effort.

"William." She's leaning in the bathroom doorway with her toothbrush wedged between her teeth. "Stop thinking and go to sleep." 

He mumbles that she's quite right and that he will, but it mainly comes out as a yawn and then he's out.


End file.
